


Control

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Commanding, Condoms, Control Swap, Daddy Kink, M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 08:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10301810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Slade finds himself in a very unique situation and he's not about to back down from it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wallywect](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wallywect).



> For #13: Daddy Kink on my Writing Challenge. Also for wallywect. You know why! ;)  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "You’ve Seen the Butcher" by Deftones

The lightest sensation of being _watched_ slid along Slade's skin. It wasn't something most people paid as much attention to as they should have, but those in his line of work always had to be alert to their own surroundings. The only odd thing about such a warning slipping through his body and mind was _where he was_. He was used to being out in the world and having a hundred sets of eyes on him at any given time. He wasn't exactly the lowest profile killer-for-hire the city had to offer. It was with some amount of pride that he was, perhaps, one of the first names to come up on any given project as long as they had the right price waiting for him. But here - standing in the midst of a Wayne gala - it was still somehow an odd feeling. He'd not only been invited, but he'd taken the precaution of ensuring his weapons were nowhere on his body. He _knew_ who he was dealing with – he wasn't stupid enough to not know that Bruce Wayne was Batman – to not understand who each of the brood of children he kept tagging along with him were underneath each of those masks that foiled even the best laid plans oh so often. 

In some small way he'd expected things to be different tonight, somehow thought that perhaps his invitation had allowed him a night to _breathe_. Not that he didn't have his guard up, not that he'd ever really _relax_ ; but it was nice to think that maybe he could simply exist for once in their midst. 

Slade moved away from the edges of the room, skirted his way through the crowd, gathered up two glasses of champagne and began a beeline for Bruce. If he was unwelcome even after such an invitation, then he'd make a point to ensure it was as uncomfortable as possible before he left. 

He didn't make it more than ten steps before there was a hand on his elbow. His gaze flicked up to find another of the _former_ Waynes holding his arm. Eyes like concrete, so eerily close to dead inside that he was the only one of their little rag-tag bunch that truly terrified him. 

"Jason."

"He was not the one who invited you. Let him be."

Words of retort didn't even have a chance to form on his tongue before Jason was plucking one of the glasses from his grip and guiding him through the hall, toward the stairs leading off to the hotel rooms that lined the second level. Halfway up the stairs Jason paused, knocked back the entire glass of champagne, placed the empty neatly on a tray of a passing server, and then grasped Slade by the front of his shirt, fingers snagging around the pressed black fabric, his body crowding Slade against the wall. 

" _I did_."

A shock of arousal stabbed right into Slade's gut at those words, at the fire that lit behind Jason's eyes. He'd seen it there once before, had made a million assumptions as to what had really happened one night so many months ago in Bosnia. Tempers had run high and with Jason working for Black Mask at the time, Slade had assumed the flicker of arousal, the heated kiss seconds before he'd punched him had been something to play up what he was willing to do in order to get into Black Mask's good graces. 

Now that he was presented with that look again - while he knew just how very _gone_ Black Mask was - he couldn't reconcile it with a damn thing other than a possible truth.

Something rectangular pressed into his palm and Jason breathed out, "Three 'o' four. Your choice if you show or not. I won't ask a second time, _Slade_." The way he said his name, the very intonation of the word as it left his mouth, could have broken a weaker man. _Damn near did break Slade_.

He watched as Jason turned and made his way back down the stairs, as he mingled with the crowd, all false smiles and dead eyes once more, and Slade found himself wondering if any of them ever noticed just how much of a shell they were interacting with in those moments or if they even cared.

 _He_ cared. Why, he couldn't say in that moment, but he knew he did. Perhaps it was more than he should have, but the feeling existed nonetheless. 

Turning, he made his way up the rest of the stairs, hesitated at the top, his eyes tracking Jason across the ballroom. He caught a glimpse of the youngest of Bruce's children - Damian - crossing the room towards where Bruce still mingled with a random assortment of high society, seeming not to notice a thing beyond the woman in front of him. Slade knew better, knew Bruce probably had at least some idea that he was there or that he was at least being watched. 

Moving away from the balcony, he used the keycard to open the stairwell that led to the third floor. Eighteen steps later he exited onto the upper floor, a wide hallway creating one long path across the length of the building, twelve doors along the hallway opening into what Slade knew were enormous rooms; the suites every piece of high society _shit_ liked to use to woe some unsuspecting socialite or other. 

For a moment, Slade wondered if he was the unsuspecting socialite in this situation or if he was a pawn in a larger game. He let the thought drift through his mind along with the memory of the way Jason's eyes had burned with a passion he was sure was to be reckoned with. Making his way down the hallway, he stopped in front of room _304_ and swiped the keycard without so much as an ounce of hesitation. 

Stepping into the room, he gave it his typical sweep - room-to-room to ensure there weren't any nasty surprises waiting for him, a cursory check of the windows to ensure they were either latched or non-opening - and then gave himself the leeway to actually _enjoy_ his surroundings. The plush cream of the sofa in the main room complimented the coffee color of the high-pile carpets. It should have been drab, the creams and browns and nothing else in the room, but somehow it wasn't. Whatever decorator they'd hired knew their job and if nothing else, Slade held an appreciation for that.

He made quick use of the restroom - mostly black and gleaming silver - washed his hands and wandered to the recliner by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, settled in the comfort of it and crossed his legs, settling his hands over his thigh, biding his time until he found out what he'd gotten himself into.

It was nearly an hour before the lock on the door buzzed and clicked open, accepting a keycard and unlatching. He watched it swing open, studied the way Jason didn't even look up at him as he kicked the door closed, automatically hitched the chain on the door, and discarded his dress shoes with two swift kicks, one of them clunking against the wall. A few hopping steps and his socks were tossed alongside them and then Jason looked up, met Slade's gaze head-on and he watched as everything _changed_. He watched the fire light behind his eyes, watched the falseness of the look on his face fall away, leaving behind an almost predatory smirk. 

Jason shrugged out of his suit jacket, left it draped over the back of the couch, unhitched his belt and coiled it, leaving it on the side table, his keycard dropping onto the wood beside it. Fingers that should have been rough, _worn_ , carefully loosened Jason's tie, slid silk against silk until it was unknotted, sliding from around his shoulders and falling abandoned on the floor. It was anything but careless, a gesture built with such delicate care that Slade knew it had been done for his benefit alone. 

Two swaying steps and Jason stopped in front of him, nearly touching his knee, but not. Those same fingers began to unfasten his cuffs, extracting the cufflinks, slipping them into his pocket, rolling up his sleeves and then sliding up over his chest, pausing at the very top button, flicking it open and moving down to the next. Their eyes met again and Slade felt his pulse kick up a notch, felt the fire ignite inside him over just how full of _want_ that look was. 

Peripherally he was aware of Jason's fingers gliding over his shirt, finishing unbuttoning the soft fabric, aware of it parting to show the expanse of skin beneath. The shirt fell to the floor a moment later and Jason's hands came to rest against the pristine button of his pants. "Tell me something..."

Slade forced his gaze back up to Jason's, holding it as he heard the button pop and the glide of Jason's zipper being lowered. 

"Will you do as I say?"

It took everything in Slade not to allow the shiver his body wanted to create come to the surface. Arousal slammed through him harder than it had in _years_ and he hummed out a quiet sound of approval. "Highly likely." There were, after all, things he would never allow himself to do, even if it meant having _Jason_ in his bed; but right then those things were few and far between.

Jason's tongue peeked out for a moment, slid across his bottom lip and then disappeared. "You may watch."

Slade's eyes jerked downward, watched the peek of Jason's hips as they were revealed, as everything was slid down ever so slowly, the reveal intentionally slow. A few inches at a time, revealing more and more until he could see the base of Jason's cock, could tell he was hard, probably had been for a while now. The fabric slipped down to mid-thigh and then fell the rest of the way to the floor, revealing Jason completely to his gaze. 

He didn't bother holding back the groan of pure lust that bubbled up from his throat, didn't stop himself from uncrossing his legs to show Jason just how he was affecting him: the strain of his cock in his suit pants so very obvious. 

Jason stepped out of the pooled material, took the necessary steps to bring him to Slade's chair. Slowly - achingly so - he eased down onto the recliner, settling astride Slade's lap, fingers working at his belt and then the fly of his pants. The zipper being tugged down was a relief, the pressure easing against his engorged length. 

Slade moved his hands, placed them on the arms of the recliner, _knew_ his place here was a fragile one. Jason had chosen him and as best his mind could fathom it was - perhaps - due to how that kiss had affected them both in Bosnia. Maybe it was that he let Jason _feel_ something again, maybe it was because of who he was or maybe it was something deeper, _darker_ than that. Whatever it was, Slade knew if he made one wrong move, Jason would bail on him, leave him believing he had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. 

The hand that cupped his length was warm, pleasant in the pressure as he gave two firm strokes and then grasped the waistband of his briefs, slid them down until his cock was free. He heard Jason's sucked in breath, the cut-off _whine_ that so clearly wanted out. He watched the way pleasure adorned Jason's face, set his jaw and burned in his eyes. 

Jason reached past Slade, up onto the shelf behind his head, and he came back with a little square packet. Two quick movements and the condom was open and then Jason was kissing him - hard and _desperate_ , all rough edges and passion that burned at both ends, all-consuming. He barely noticed the condom being rolled down over his cock and almost dimly he recalled how long it had been since someone kissed him in a way that left him more focused on it than anything else that was happening.

He'd barely registered the thought before Jason was easing back from the kiss, his tongue flicking out along Slade's bottom lip, and then he was holding the back of the recliner, sliding forward until his knees were against the back of it.

Slade tensed to hold himself as still as he could manage for Jason, watched Jason's face as he began to ease himself down on him. He was slick - obviously so - and the knowledge that he'd so clearly prepped himself for this sent white hot fire through his veins. 

Jason settled on his lap, looped one arm around him and tucked his head down against his shoulder, his hips starting to rock. The smallest mewl of pleasure left him and then he was moving faster, gasping out, " _Slade_ ," in a way that made Slade want to wreck him. 

Jason's grip tightened and Slade's fingertips dug into the armrests. "It is becoming difficult not to touch you."

"Then _do it_." Jason's hand pushed up into Slade's hair, clung to the snowy white strands as his hips rocked faster. 

Slade slipped his hands up along Jason's back, over the tight musculature that he knew he would long to study more than he'd ever be allowed to. He let his head fall back to rest on the back of the chair, his hips starting to work with Jason's, pushing his length up inside of him again and again. In all his years, taking someone had never felt like _this_. The intensity alone was new and the waves of held-back desperation that rolled off of Jason told him a story he knew Jason would never have wanted to tell. 

His hands came to grasp Jason's ass, helping him rock against him more forcefully, each thrust pushing up inside of Jason's body harder and harder until Jason was panting against his shoulder. 

Jason let out a little gasp, shuddering over him as he surged upright, grabbed Slade's shoulders and began to fuck himself almost recklessly on his cock. His head fell back and Slade lifted his head to watch, studying the way Jason started to lose control, how his mouth kept forming a word he wasn't speaking. One word, over and over, and it burned a red hot hole right in Slade's gut, lit a fire he didn't want to try to understand somewhere deep inside of him. 

"You can say it, _boy_."

The cry that wrenched free of Jason's throat was jarring, a noise of someone who'd held back far too long, and then he was all but sobbing out, " _Daddy_ ," and the sound of it, it wasn't anything like Slade had imagined it would be. It wasn't strange or somehow demeaning to Jason, it wasn't the mood-killer he might have once thought it to be. Rather it was freedom, the word itself releasing something inside of Jason that he'd been holding back, a piece of himself that he'd tucked away into hiding and now that it was free, Slade could see who Jason had once been: the boy Bruce had taken under his wing, the strong fearless man that had taken control of even this situation in a way that likened to taking a bull by its horns. He saw _truth_ and it was like nothing he'd ever seen during such intimate moments, no matter the collection of lovers in his past. 

Jason choked out, " _Slade_ ," and then his hips were jerking frantically, something close to a whine freeing itself on the air, and Slade's reaction was automatic. His hand moved to lightly ghost over the length of Jason's cock, to cup over the head, and then Jason was losing it, clenching down so tight around Slade he wasn't entirely certain _he_ was going to last either, and then the fluttering grip of his muscle around him as the warmth of Jason's cum spilled into his hand. 

It was only a few moments before Jason stilled, his head once more resting against Slade's shoulder, his breath coming in wrenching little gasps. 

Slade's voice was quiet as he took his chances, one simple command. "Get up and go to the couch."

Jason was up faster than Slade expected and he watched as he weaved his way to the couch, fell to his knees on the center cushion and draped his arms over the back of it. Slade could feel the way his lips curved upward, knew how he was looking at Jason now. Extracting the colored handkerchief from his breast pocket, he wiped Jason's cum onto it, folded it in half, and stood. 

A few careful steps brought him to the couch and he eased himself between Jason's thighs, gripped his shoulder with one hand and his own cock with the other. Sliding back inside him, he groaned - a lengthy, deep sound that had Jason pushing back toward him. Leaning down over him, he moved his free hand to Jason's middle, holding him in place as he drove harshly up into him, jarring him forward with every single thrust. 

"Dreamed of you, _boy_."

The sound Jason made was nothing short of delicious and Slade's blood ran like fire with it. His hips snapped harder, _faster_ and he listened to Jason keen for him. He ramped them up until he could go no faster, until his lungs were rasping in each gulp of oxygen in a desperate plea for him to exert himself less. Only then was he pleased with how hard he was taking Jason, with how much _power_ he was pulling away from him. 

"Who makes you feel like this?"

Jason let out a sharp cry and then barely a breath of, " _Daddy_ ," this one quiet, ashamed, and Slade felt his cock twitch at the idea of how it had demeaned him for just this one instant _to say what he'd wanted to_. 

" _Damn right_."

He drove up hard into Jason's body and stilled, his cock straining, his orgasm _right there_ , and he held onto it, savoring it until he gave two sharp jerks of his hips and then he was pitching over the edge into oblivion. " _Jason_." His body quaked with the intensity of it, his cock throbbing as he filled up the barrier between them, longed for it to be shooting up inside of Jason instead. He allowed himself a moment of weakness to imagine leaving it inside of him and then watching as it dripped back out onto the expensive couch beneath him. 

Pulling out, he eased back and parted Jason's cheeks, seeing just how much he'd opened his body up for him, watching as the muscle fluttered, desperate to close back up again. He squeezed his ass and then let him go, fingertips wandering over Jason's balls to his cock. 

Jason's hips jerked and he gasped, trying to jerk away, and Slade smirked as he pulled his hand back. 

"Sensitive?"

A faint sound of affirmation came from Jason, muffled as it was by the back of the couch, and Slade studied him as he discarded the condom and used the last clean bit of his handkerchief to clean himself up. Tucking himself away, he shrugged off his jacket, tossed it alongside Jason's own, and then settled on the couch, opening himself up to allow Jason anything he needed now that they were done.

He could see the hesitation in Jason's expression, read him like an open book for the first time in a very long time, and then Jason was curling up by his side - tucking in under his arm and relaxing there, his hand on Slade's thigh. 

They were quiet, neither of them speaking a word, and really, Slade hadn't expected anything else. He eased his hand over Jason's shoulder, holding him loosely enough it could have been written off as simply more comfortable, and he felt the last of Jason's tension ease. 

Maybe they would do this again sometime, maybe they wouldn't. Perhaps it was the start of something that would happen dozens more times, spanning across continents and time zones until they'd found one another in each and every one. Or perhaps it would be only this once. Whatever it would be, Slade was open to the idea of it; pleased with what he'd gotten and more than willing to offer more should the occasion arise.


End file.
